


Days

by imladrissun



Category: Late Night Host RPF, late night with conan o'brien
Genre: Contemplation, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 02:34:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17112788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imladrissun/pseuds/imladrissun
Summary: What happens day to day.





	Days

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously for this story I am presupposing that both guys don't have partners or families, this is my take on an alt-universe single two of them.

No one stays associate producer for long. Everyone eventually moves on, or around, or something. But Jordan never does, and over the years he's the hardest to figure out. He has a very dispassionate facade, and there are no cracks in it. Getting a laugh from him means he's truly achieved something; getting outright verbal approval means he's done something he can be proud of. 

He's also one of the only people that's completely honest with him. Even if he does say "listen, O'Brien" when he wants to make a point. Conan hangs out with him a lot, usually in his far off office. There's a couch in there on the far wall that they keep off camera when filming. Of course, it was a fluke that they even got him on camera.

Conan actually cared more about continuing their friendship than trying to get him into an actor role on the show. Jordan could be very friendly to all, but he was still impenetrable, distant in some way. He didn't want anyone's approval, no matter who they were. It was hard not to be jealous of that kind of self-confidence. 

Conan was much more insecure; no matter what he succeeded at, it seemed another failure balanced it out. He couldn't turn off his desire for attention, for laughs, for compliments [of the comedic kind, not the looks kind.] When he got mopey and just wanted to be left alone, he would go and sulk in Jordan's office.

No one went all the way out there; no one used Jordan's weird coffee maker either. Every time Conan had tried it, he'd done it incorrectly. Then Jordan would come out and help him, and make him go sit on the couch and wait while he did it. But he never felt like an imposition. 

Jordan regarded him dispassionately most of the time, but he could tell he liked him once in a while. After Jordan's reputation had spread through the industry [that he could finangle anything for the show, and get them into anywhere], people had begun to try to poach him early on. Eventually the legend had grown, and even more gifts arrived for him at the office. 

Andy had counseled him to hide them, or get rid of them, but he couldn't do that. He had to know if Jordan really wanted to stay. You only know for real if they could leave but don't. 

He never did. To everyone's continuing enjoyment, he handed out the gifts to people in the office, and never mentioned anything about it [or the offers it came with.] Andy had gotten the inside scoop that he actually gave the money that sometimes came with the gifts to charity. 

Every time, he hadn't left [and never spoke about it] -- it had reaffirmed that Conan really was worth it; he had a great future to look forward to, he was going places. Because Jordan wasn't about to stay if he didn't think he wasn't, Conan knew that. That man was all machine; logical, focused, with little emotion entering into the equation. Especially when it came to something like his career. 

Every week that passed while he stayed felt like a better and better gift. And then one of the guys on the show had insisted they put him on camera. 

He'd agreed, of course, but was gripped by worry. Andy could tell of course, but let him be. What if Jordan was annoyed, or worse, outright dismissive of doing the job of a trained monkey? The people behind the scenes often felt themselves much more crucial that the little song and dance people who whored themselves out in front of the camera. And Conan played the fool all the time. 

He didn't want to hear what he really thought of him and his job. Of course, Jordan had never spoken badly of him, or disparaged what he did, but this was different. When someone leaves their wheelhouse, they don't always react well to new things. And Jordan was very set in his ways. His coffee, his weird waters, his strange addiction to hiding [and eating, presumably] Smores poptarts. He was a creature of habit. 

He had always let Conan have some poptarts though. He'd always felt kind of special, as he'd heard others mention how Jordan would not give up his food or stuff to anyone, for any reason. He was very territorial. 

The next morning, Andy rushed into his office and closed the door behind him -- which meant he had some gossip to spill. "He said he'll do it," he said in a rush. " 'If he wants it, of course' -- that's what he said. I got it straight from the source himself."

Conan hesitated, shocked, touched, surprised. "He said that?"

Andy rolled his eyes. "Yes, verbatim, word for word, okay. I went and asked him what he thought." He continued on, but Conan was lost in his thoughts for once. He hadn't really expected him to do it, much less to put so much weight on what he wanted. 

He carefully prepped him before the first one, explaining it too much, repeating things unecessarily. Jordan didn't even correct him; it was like he was humoring him by not being critical. It just made Conan more nervous. If he got offended, Conan was going to shut it down immediately. Most people couldn't separate themselves from what they were 'playing.'

Then the camera went on, and he led the way to Jordan's office. In a way he felt relief; the man himself would probably halt it after he heard what Conan said to him.

He was wrong, of course. Jordan clapped back at him so hard he was genuinely surprised, and then couldn't control his own laughter -- a real reaction, which was rare for him. After they finished, in one take, Jordan sat back down at his desk and kept working... on his 'various duties', presumably. The crew dissappated, and Conan was left standing alone in the doorway of Jordan's office.

The corridor was empty; Jordan was silent, working on his computer. He felt kind of bereft; they'd had such a connection. Sure they'd had funny moments before just interacting, but this was much longer than that. It was extended hilarity. Jordan had left him in the dust a few times, it had totally exceeded his expectations.

"Can I hang out on the couch?" he asked finally, and Jordan looked up and nodded. He handed him an ipad a minute later, which he did sometimes. Other days he didn't; Conan didn't know the logic of it but didn't ask for it if it wasn't offered. The ipad had everything from games [simple ones that Conan had taken to playing while on his couch, to thousands of photos of his trips, which were mostly to Italy.]

A few times when he was really upset, he would skulk into the room, and lay on the couch, facing the wall. Not even having the energy to talk to Jordan. After a minute, he would come over and put a blanket on him [from where it came, Conan never found out], and sometimes he would sit on the table by the couch and put his hand on his shoulder. He didn't say anything, and Conan didn't either, even as he silently stroked his neck and shoulder. Thankfully he didn't get more than a little into his hair, as he was both into that and into the man himself, it seemed. [There'd never been guys before, but apparently he was learning about himself, he didn't care at his point.]

He would wake up the next morning to an empty office. Jordan never came in the next a.m., if it was on purpose, he could only guess. It always made him feel better though, even if he had to wake up alone. 

He had a feeling that Jordan was tolerating him for him, not because he was the show's nameplate; Jordan wasn't that type of guy. He'd talk back to a boss without even pausing. He also was in shock at how ripped the guy was; some of the photos he was surreptitiously looking through showed a hardcore bod in the shirtless photos. 

The weird thing was, they didn't talk about it. Even the days after, even after the first one aired. Jorden never mentioned it, so neither did he. Andy kept asking what he said about it all, and didn't believe his answer. But it was true, they'd had no words about it. 

Then Conan had met with the marketing team, the hirer ups, the writers -- and they'd all come to him, apparently individually. All wanting to know if he could get Jordan to do more work in front of the camera. He couldn't believe it. His appearance had not only been popular, but people wanted more of their dynamic, to the point that there was an outpouring of online responses. He said he'd try, and they all asked him [dead serious] to not tell Jordan they'd said anything. His sometimes fearsome reputation proceeded him [though he'd never been cruel, everyone was a little afraid of him.]

So this time he asked him himself. And Jordan said yes without looking up from his computer screen. Conan had a poptart as a personal reward to himself. He lay there on the couch, and smiled to himself. 

It went on from there. The ratings always soared if Jordan was going to be involved in a remote or something, and Jordan always acted as if everything they did on camera didn't matter, didn't exist. It was like he didn't even regard it as anything other than a silly moment of nonsense that was so irrelevant one wouldn't even recall it seconds later. Conan was fine with that. He had comedian friends; Jordan was a real friend. Other than Andy, he was one of his only real friends, to be honest. Jordan didn't care at all about his fame or celebrity, he almost regarded it as distasteful if he was reminded of it at all. Even with fans they met on the street, he was real. He was always surprised they wanted to talk to him, to take a photo, but very gracious. It was like he found each encounter of that type to be unexpected, anew. 

Of course, even more people tried to poach him after that. But Conan felt more secure now. Nothing could take him away, unless he himself messed up, and that was not a possibility. He asked the staff wherever they went to treat Jordan better than himself. It felt like he just didn't have anything he wanted, or valued. Jordan cared for money a little, trips a lot, and tangible goods were negligible unless they met his exacting standards. Buying him a gift was a nightmare. Even Andy hadn't envied him the task and just wished him good luck with a fatalistic undertone. 

The funny part was, that when the crew went to their hotel and the two of them were alone in Italy, Jordan was still out and about -- even after working all day. It wasn't really a vacation in that sense, but Conan hoped he liked it all the same. This way they got to be together and do something that Jordan liked to do, ie Italy [instead of what he liked, which was the show itself.] Jordan just kept going after they stopped filming, and Conan asked him if he could come with him. That earned him a surprised look, but not an annoyed one, so he figured he was safe. 

They went through churches, saw ancient art, went into extremely old stores, and Conan didn't really say anything. He did keep asking questions, as now that the cameras were off, Jordan didn't talk as much. Now he just walked beside him, and listened to whatever Jordan thought was interesting. It was insanely relaxing to be the watcher instead of the performer, though he did love his job. This was a different kind of enjoyment, one he didn't usually feel or experience. Here he was the pupil and follower instead of the figurehead or boss. 

Jordan was definitely the boss in their friendship, let's be real, he thought. He was currently explaining some long, in-depth thing about Florentine cloth or leather. It had something to do with the Renaissance, but Jordan was so intellectual that it was hard to keep up. It was he himself that wanted Jordan's attention, his focus, his tolerance, his approval. Conan could probably be replaced with someone else and Jordan might not even notice at first, he thought, a little gloomily. Sure, they had shared a room on the trip, which was fun, though nerve wracking. 

If Jordan didn't approve of something he did, he wasn't the type to keep quiet about it. Conan was always a bit lowkey worried about his disapproval. It had turned out okay, though, as Jordan had treated the hotel rooms just like his office at work; and Conan being there as him just lounging on his couch, metaphorically. It had been kind of fun, getting to be close to him. 

He had even seen him with wet hair after Conan realized the place had no hair dryers; he looked terrible with wet hair, and had kept a towel on his head until Jordan had suddenly looked over and said "Take it off." 

He'd been so surprised that he had, only for Jordan to say, "You look better with your hair like that, very youthful." Then he'd turned back to his computer. The next day had only increased the intimacy when he decided that Conan needed to try Italian colognes, and proceed to spray a tiny bit of a few on different parts of his arm, and then take his arm to smell them. "It depends on how it works with your chemistry," he informed him, by the by, while Conan stood there speechless. Thank god there'd been no cameras there, his feelings for the other man would have been too obvious. And happily the ancient man in the store clearly had no idea who he was; and he had apparently found Jordan's behavior very normal. Maybe he really was a somehow transplanted Italian.


End file.
